


The List

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Category: Uncharted (Video Games), Uncharted 4 - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Shotgunning, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: Sam has a problem, and it's called Rafe Adler.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to [jilldrawblog](http://jilldrawblog.tumblr.com) for getting me out of the multiple places I got stuck writing this.
> 
> Takes place shortly before the flashback events of Uncharted 4, when Sam and Nate and Rafe have teamed up but haven't made it to Panama yet.

Sam Drake keeps a folded piece of notebook paper in his back pocket. The paper is worn thin on the creases, as if it has been opened and refolded more than once, and the writing on it is smudged as if fingers have traced over it repeatedly. Sam had thought that a list might help, and he takes it out and looks at it sometimes when he thinks no one’s looking, inhaling thoughtfully on his cigarette.

“What’s that,” Rafe says, trying to peer around his shoulder and Sam chokes. He hastily folds the list and shoves it back in his pocket.

“Nothing,” he says, aiming for casual - and failing, by the look on Rafe’s face.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Rafe says, folding his arms, and Sam tries not to watch how that pulls Rafe’s shirt tight across his chest.

Sam blows smoke in Rafe’s face because he knows it will irritate him. “Let me rephrase - it’s nothing to do with the treasure, okay?” He can’t quite say  _ it’s nothing to do with you _ because - well, because that’s not really true, is it? Rafe doesn’t look convinced, but he reluctantly lets it go when Nathan bounds up, alight with discovery, shoving a book under their noses and babbling excitedly about colonial ruins and Jonathan Burnes and Panama.

That’s fine. Sam is fine. Sam can deal with this just  _ fine _ .

* * *

Sam is not dealing with this just fine.

Sam doesn’t  _ want _ to like Rafe Adler. He doesn’t want to feel any sort of way about this kid at all - and he  _ is _ a kid, younger than Nathan, although he doesn’t act like it. Rafe carries himself with a confidence born of the kind of wealth that erases obstacles; he acts as if with the right application of effort - or the right application of money - the world should fall in line for him, and Sam  _ hates _ that. Sam knows better than anyone that sometimes shit happens, that sometimes the deck is stacked against you.That sometimes life isn’t fair.

Rafe seems like the living embodiment of  _ not fair _ , though, especially in the way he looks at Sam, his smirk a clear invitation that Sam is trying very hard to turn down. Sam considers himself a fairly decent - okay, a somewhat - okay, Sam tries to do right by Nathan, at the very least, and the right thing is probably  _ not _ to bang their financial backer and nominal partner, no matter how pretty Rafe’s mouth would look around Sam’s dick.

Rafe isn’t making it easy, though. Sam’s pretty sure it’s not an accident, the way Rafe cants his hips as he leans over the pool table to line up a shot, or the way Rafe’s eyes linger on Sam’s mouth when Sam lights up a cigarette. So far, though, Sam’s kept his hands - if not his thoughts - to himself. Rafe doesn’t need the encouragement, and this operation doesn’t need the complication.

Now they’re waiting on word back from Rafe’s contacts to get them into Panama, and while Nathan is out exploring the city and Rafe seems content to pass the time getting blitzed by the pool, Sam finds himself restless, fingers itching. He steps out on the back veranda with the vague idea of having a smoke but stills, hand in his back pocket, when he sees what’s waiting for him.

Rafe is lounging by the pool, slanting sunbeams highlighting a frankly indecent expanse of pale skin interrupted only by the smallest pair of swim shorts known to man stretched over trim hips. As Sam watches - he may be keeping his hands off but that doesn’t mean he can’t  _ look _ \- Rafe folds his arms behind his head and crosses his legs, staring Sam down over the tops of gold-rimmed sunglasses.  _ Daring  _ him.

Sam’s fingers brush against the paper in his pocket. Sam doesn’t need to look at the list at this point; he’s got what’s written on the paper memorized. Instead he pulls out a cigarette, lights up, and considers the situation.

Sam’s been good. Sam’s been practically  _ saintly _ \- but everyone has a breaking point, and Sam’s appears to be one Rafe Adler, stretched out poolside behind a house the likes of which Sam has only ever robbed.

Rafe unfolds one arm and picks up a martini glass from the table next to him. Knowing Rafe, the clear liquid inside is probably strong enough to be used as paint thinner - “I  _ could _ drink beer,” he had told Sam and Nathan at their first meeting. “But why would I?” - but Rafe’s face doesn’t change as he takes a sip, eyes locked challengingly with Sam’s. 

Suddenly being  _ good _ seems a hell of a lot less important than it did five minutes ago. Sam takes another drag and Rafe’s eyes fall to Sam’s lips. Sam smiles.

Sam ambles over, blinking as he leaves the shade of the house for the late afternoon sun. He may not be sure exactly what it is Rafe sees in him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy the appreciative up-and-down Rafe gives him as he comes to a stop by the lounge chair.

“You smoke?” he asks, although he’s pretty sure Rafe doesn’t.

“I could make an exception,” Rafe says smugly, as if this is all going to plan. Maybe it is, but that doesn’t mean Sam can’t turn it to his advantage.

Rafe reaches for the cigarette in Sam’s hand, but Sam pulls it back out of his grasp. Rafe’s brows knit with annoyance, frown deepening as Sam lifts the cigarette back to his own mouth and inhales. Rafe’s lips part but before he can say anything Sam leans down and presses their lips together, pushing the smoke into Rafe’s lungs, aided by Rafe’s startled inhale. Rafe coughs but he recovers like a champ, and when Sam pulls back Rafe’s eyes are hooded and dark.

“You’re not teasing me, are you Samuel?” Rafe’s voice is husky and low.

“I don’t tease,” Sam lies, and plucks the martini out of Rafe’s unresisting fingers and downs it. The alcohol only burns a little - the mark of the good stuff - and anyway it’s worth it for the way Rafe’s eyes are hungry on him when he sets down the glass.

“Upstairs,” Sam says, dropping the cigarette to the ground and grinding it out. “Now.”

Rafe scrambles off the chair gratifyingly quickly, and Sam laughs as he’s tugged along up the stairs, but the laughter dies on his lips as the door to Rafe’s bedroom shuts behind them and Rafe pulls him in. Rafe kisses mean and hungry, teeth nipping at Sam’s mouth, and Sam settles his hands on Rafe’s hips to draw him closer, drinking him in. Rafe runs hot, it seems, skin almost feverish under Sam’s fingers, and when Sam’s thumbs rub circles over Rafe’s hipbones Rafe purrs into his mouth. Sam blinks his eyes open when Rafe’s hands start working at his belt.

“Off,” Rafe demands, tugging at Sam’s pants, and Sam huffs.

“Pushy,” he says, reluctantly letting go of Rafe’s hips to work on his own clothes.

Rafe’s eyes glint. “You have no idea.” Sam doesn’t know if that’s a promise or a threat, but Rafe stepping back and sliding his fingers under the waistband of his tiny, tiny shorts is more than enough incentive to get naked, and in a few second Rafe’s pulling him toward the bed, so that’s okay.

Rafe practically tosses Sam onto the bed, and despite the Sam’s extra inches Rafe has a surprising amount of muscle on him so Sam bounces when he hits the mattress. He pushes himself up against the headboard as Rafe climbs up after him, and Sam thinks it’s about time he took control of this encounter back so he takes Rafe by the hips and attempts to roll him over, but Rafe just laughs.

“Sorry, Sam.” Rafe brushes his lips over Sam’s forehead, soft and benedictory and at odds with the smugness in his tone. “But that’s not how this is going to go.”

Rafe grabs Sam’s hand in one of his own and rummages in the nightstand with the other, and it’s right about the time that Rafe slicks up Sam’s fingers and guides them behind himself that Sam realizes that he’s entirely lost control of this situation, if indeed he ever had it. Rafe makes a little face when Sam slips a finger inside, so Sam stills, but Rafe pushes at his shoulder saying, “come on, don’t tell me you’re chickening out  _ now _ .” Sam knows he’s being played like a cheap fiddle but somehow Rafe just gets under his skin, has from the very beginning, so he stretches Rafe out carefully (but not  _ too _ carefully, because then Rafe bitches), savoring every hitched breath and cut-off curse against his ear. Soon Rafe is pulling back, rolling a condom onto Sam’s woefully neglected dick, slicking it up and positioning it behind him.

“Easy,  _ easy _ ,” Sam hears himself say, hissing as the tip of his dick sinks into that tight, slicked-up heat. He finds himself gripping Rafe’s thighs and forces his fingers to unclench as Rafe works himself further down, face a study in concentration. Sam pats Rafe’s thigh in apology and Rafe chuckles.

“Sam, my friend.” Rafe grins down at him, cocky even as he slips another inch onto Sam’s dick. “I appreciate the concern but I’m not made of glass, here. Now come on and put your back into it.” Sam huffs - he was trying to be  _ nice _ \- but he’s never going to get a clearer invitation than that, so he grips Rafe’s hips and  _ thrusts _ , pulling Rafe down on his dick as he snaps his hips up, and the way Rafe’s head tips back and his mouth falls open is worth every time Sam had stopped himself from reaching out, is worth having waited for.

“Whoah-ho,  _ that’s _ more like it,” Rafe laughs. He braces his hands against Sam’s chest and rolls his hips back, and Sam’s breath leaves his chest in a rush. “Knew you had it in you,” Rafe murmurs, fingers curling and nails scraping Sam’s chest. Sam shudders.

Rafe likes it hard and fast and he doesn’t give any ground, not even as he’s grinding his ass down into Sam’s lap. As soon as he’s got a rhythm going he lifts Sam’s hands off his thighs and pins them above Sam’s head, leaning in to bite at Sam’s lips. Sam pushes back experimentally but Rafe growls into his mouth, and so Sam is left to roll his hips up the best he can and watch pleasure chase itself across Rafe’s face. His own pleasure is a steady, growing thing, and he doesn’t realize his hips have sped up until Rafe releases one of his wrists and rakes his fingernails across Sam’s chest.

“Ow  _ ow _ \- what the  _ hell _ ,” Sam spits, trying to twist away from the sting, but Rafe stays with him, thighs flexing. As the fiery lines fade his orgasm recedes a bit and Sam realizes just how  _ close _ he had been to the edge.

“Stay with me, old man.” Rafe grins down at him like the cocky little shit he is. “I don’t want this to be over so soon.”

“ _ Brat _ ,” Sam says, but it’s too breathy to be truly convincing. Rafe doesn’t look repentant, anyway, so Sam takes his free hand and wraps it around Rafe’s dick, bobbing red and flushed between them. The noise Rafe makes is entirely gratifying, and although Rafe’s hand comes up to cover Sam’s he doesn’t move Sam’s hand away. Sam strokes Rafe in rough counterpoint to the slap of their hips, and it’s not long before Rafe hisses out something that might be Sam’s name, head bowed and eyes screwed shut and dick jerking in Sam’s hand as he comes over Sam’s chest. Rafe’s body clenches down around Sam’s and Sam can’t hold his own release back any longer, hips jerking up a few more times as his orgasm catches up with him. 

He’s still breathing heavily when Rafe shifts off of him, and he’s going to have to go clean up in a minute but for now it feels  _ really _ good to sling an arm over his eyes and just lie here, floating in the afterglow. In fact, the only thing that would make this moment better would be -

“Hey.” Sam nudges Rafe with his elbow because he’s closer to the pile of abandoned clothes. “Grab me a smoke, will you? Back pocket.” Rafe grumbles but the mattress dips as he leans over the edge of the bed in a rare show of compliance, and only when Sam hears the first snort of laughter does he realize his mistake.

“Sam. Sam, look at me.  _ Samuel _ .” Sam know what he’s going to see when he opens his eyes but he does it anyway, and sure enough when he lifts his arm Rafe is wearing the worst kind of shit-eating grin and waving a very familiar piece of paper in Sam’s face.

“I cannot believe this shit,” Rafe announces gleefully. “Sam, this is a new low, even for you.”

Sam tries to grab the paper out of Rafe’s hands but Rafe jerks it back, sitting up straight and holding it out in front of him, clearing his throat.

“Reasons I Should Not Take That Goddamn Twink Rafe Adler Up On What He Is So Obviously Offering,” he reads, and Sam can see that he’s struggling to keep a straight face. Sam makes another grab for the paper, trying to salvage what’s left of his dignity, but Rafe fends him off easily. “Oh man, the title is good, but that’s not even the best part.” He lifts his head to look at Sam and his eyes are dancing. “You know what the best part is, right?”

“Shut up,” Sam says weakly, not really believing that Rafe will.

Sure enough, Rafe falls back on the bed and howls with laughter, waving the paper in the air. “This list is fucking  _ blank _ , my man! All that time and you couldn’t come up with even one reason?”

“I had  _ plenty _ of reasons,” Sam growls, leaning over to grab Rafe’s forearm and pin it over his head. Even with Sam looming over him, Rafe doesn’t give an inch, grin wide and eyes glinting. “And the biggest is that you’re an insufferable, cocky little shit who is too used to getting his own way.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” Rafe purrs, rolling his hips and that is just not  _ fair _ , but nothing about Sam’s life is fair, and he has to grab what happiness he can, where he can, right?

_ “ _ Fuck that list,” Sam says as he leans down to nose in at Rafe’s neck. Rafe sighs and tips his head to the side to give Sam better access. “And fuck you too.”

“For what? For  _ seducing _ you?” Sam bites down on Rafe’s shoulder for that and Rafe shudders underneath him.

“Nah,” Sam says, pressing his lips to the bite. “Just on general principle.”

“ _ Oh _ , ok.” Sam can  _ hear _ Rafe rolling his eyes, but he’s pulling Sam closer so that’s all right. “I guess I can live with that.”

So can Sam.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
